Even in Calormen
by Avia Tantella Scott
Summary: On his first Christmas Eve as Narnian ambassador to Calormen, the Lord Peridan assuages his children's fears about Christmas in this strange and exotic new land.


**Author's Note:** Oh, look, everyone! It's my first Christmas story! Every year I tell myself I'll write one, and this year a plot finally came to me that didn't make me want to hurl a Christmas tree at it in disgust. True, I probably should have been focusing on my present for NFFR's Secret Santa, but... oh well. Enjoy! :)

This chapter is dedicated to my dear friend Steve, both on the occasion of his wedding and because I at last have managed to write a story with a happy ending, as he so encouraged.

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**Even in Calormen**

Even the candles seemed to flicker differently here, Peridan noticed, watching absently as the tiny flames danced in mysterious and graceful movements, undulating skyward to taper off in an ethereal and delicate tendril of grey smoke. The melted wax, having filled the hollow space around the wick, rolled over the brim and slid silkily down the length of the candle. At that moment, Peridan missed Narnia, where the candles always seemed to burn so bright and gay, flickering jovially against the night with none of the enigmatic secrecy of their Calormene counterparts.

He supposed that it was fitting, really; in the two months since he had arrived at his new post as the permanent Narnian ambassador in Tashbaan, he'd found Calormene culture and especially its politics as mysterious, complex, and exotic as the movements of its candles. There was something in the way the flame danced that reminded Peridan of the girls who attended to the Tisroc in his porticoed receiving room; of the grand _swish_ of a Tarkaan's robes as he strode proudly through a corridor; of the gauzy veils and pretty words of the madams and fortune-tellers who did their best to lure him into their houses of business as he made his way home from the palace at night.

Catching himself distracted for what must have been the hundredth time that evening, Peridan's eyes snapped back to the mountains of parchment before him. He wasn't in the palace tonight, though Aslan knew it wasn't because he couldn't have found some reason to be there. Even though in much of the rest of the world it was Christmas Eve, in Tashbaan it was merely Tuesday, and business and politics went on as usual.

Peridan reached for a handkerchief and mopped at his sweaty brow with an intensity ill-suited to the delicacy of the material. The sun had been down for what must have been hours now, and yet the heat of the day was only just beginning to make way for the cool breezes of a desert night. Tonight, in Narnia, everyone except the Beasts would be bundled against the cold, and most would be crowded together in their warm houses and caves and burrows. A fire was the absolute last thing he could have wanted right now, as the heat in his stuffy study was almost unbearable without one. He wouldn't have even brought the candles so close had he not needed their wavering light to examine the documents before him.

Taxes and treaties. He sighed. Such was his glamorous life as Narnia's ambassador.

In truth, Peridan usually didn't mind burying himself in paperwork; rather, he was the sort of person who loved immersing himself in language and exploring its intricacies. Perhaps this is why he and King Edmund had become fast friends, and it was probably why he was appointed Ambassador when his elderly predecessor retired. He and the younger King were of a similar mind, and shared the same talent for spotting duplicities and loopholes in the complicated prose of legal documents. For many, poring over the especially flowery language of Calormene business and political parchments would have been torturous, but for Peridan it was something like a complicated game. He wasn't as gifted as he might wish with decoding hidden meanings in speech itself, but Edmund had nevertheless insisted that there was none better to represent Narnia. Diplomatic skill, the young King assured him, would come in time.

And so here he was, working late on Christmas Eve. He felt a pang of guilt as his thoughts flew once again away from his desk, this time in the direction of the nursery. His young children had chattered for weeks about little else but the approaching holiday. He should not have stayed this long in his study, not on their first Christmas in this foreign land. It had been a difficult move for them, and he was proud of how bravely they'd faced it. The subject of Christmas, though, had thrown into sharp contrast how very different their new home was from the old one they'd left behind, and just yesterday Peridan had found himself comforting their very real fears about what this holiday would entail.

_He was at work in his study when his thoughts were interrupted by the sharp wail of a child. Looking up in alarm from multiple history books (_Emperors of the Desert: A Millenium of Tisrocs; Tashbaan: A History of Sand and Fire; The Inexorable: A Study of Tash and Organized Calormene Religion, _etc.) and the misleadingly entitled _Tea for Timber: A Concise Explanation of Calormene Customs and Trade Policy_, he witnessed the sudden and forceful opening of his study door. A streak of blonde rocketed toward him, and he only just turned in time to catch in his arms his young daughter who had thrown herself upon him in distress. Her tiny body shook with sobs, and her fair hair was plastered to her tanned and tearstained face. A small shadow darkened the doorway and Peridan glanced up to see his elder child, his son Endric, standing hesitantly just inside the study._

"_What's happened?" Peridan asked, pulling Issi up and into his lap. The little girl buried her face in her father's shoulder, and Peridan was vaguely aware of a sudden dampness in his tunic. Endric seemed reluctant to answer, and so Peridan gently pulled Issi away from his shoulder to look into her face. She sniffled, her little body still shaking with sobs, as he asked, "Issi, are you hurt?"_

"_No," she mumbled miserably, looking up at him with red, puffy eyes and wiping her runny nose down her bare arm. _

"_Have you and Endric quarreled?" _

_Issi shook her head, and when Peridan glanced to Endric for confirmation, the boy made a similar motion. "We haven't quarreled, Father," he answered meekly._

"_Then what's happened? There must be some reason for these tears," Peridan said gently, wiping his daughter's cheek with the side of his calloused and inkstained right hand. She gave a little sob and settled against his chest, crooked against his left arm._

"_Endric told me that Christmas doesn't come in Calormen," she finally replied, the final words almost unintelligible as her voice wavered. "He said that Father Christmas won't know where to find us, and that if he can't find us, then Christmas can't come."_

_Before Peridan could say anything, a voice came from the doorway. "She's not a baby anymore," Endric said stubbornly, he who was little more than a baby himself. Under the disapproving eyes of his father, however, his frown melted and Peridan could see the anxiety underneath. "I… I didn't want her to be disappointed when… when he didn't come."_

"_We're so very far away, Father!" little Issi wailed. "How shall we ever have Christmas when we are so very far away?"_

_Peridan was relieved that nothing was physically wrong with his children, that no one was hurt except for the broken heart his daughter now suffered and the apprehension in his son's face. He fleetingly wondered where his wife might be, wishing that she was here to provide the calming presence and soothing words that came so naturally to her. She would have this little matter cleared up in a trice. He, a man of few words and not given to many outright displays of emotion, was somewhat less than suited for the task before him. _

_He took a deep breath, and gestured with his right hand that Endric should enter the study. The little boy approached his father as if he feared some sort of scolding, but Peridan knew that his son had spoken not out of malice, but rather had voiced the very concern that had deeply rooted itself in his little heart. As Endric drew closer, Peridan patted his right knee and helped the boy climb upon it so that he faced his sister. Issi's sobs had slowed now that she was in the comforting embrace of her father, though the occasional hiccup still escaped her. _

"_Now," Peridan began, sending up a silent prayer to Aslan to help him find the right words. He looked to the doorway. Still no sign of his wife. "Endric, I know that you meant well, but I must tell you that you have been terribly misinformed."_

_Something sparked in his son's eyes. Was it hope?_

"_As Ambassador, I happen to know for a fact that Christmas comes even in Calormen."_

"_It… it does?" Endric whispered, and there was the slightest tremor in his lower lip._

"_Of course."_

"_But Hashu didn't even know who Father Christmas was when I asked what he wished for."_

_There was the difficult question: how to explain why Christmas comes for some and not for others. Where in the world was his wife?_

"_Hashu's family does not celebrate Christmas, but it is not because Christmas does not come," Peridan explained, hoping that the children would somehow understand these thoughts that seemed to be blundering out of his mouth. "They worship Tash… you've heard Hashu speak of going to the temples?" When Endric nodded, Peridan continued. "Tash does not celebrate Christmas, and so neither does Hashu's family. They believe different things than we, or your mother, or Kings Peter and Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy, and so they choose not to notice when Christmas comes. That is why Father Christmas does not visit Hashu."_

_There was a silence, broken only by a little hiccup from Issi, as Endric pondered this. _

"_But he will visit us, right, Father?" the boy asked at last. "Because we choose to notice Christmas?"_

_Peridan laughed. Perhaps he shouldn't have put it quite that way, but the boy seemed to understand. "Yes, my children. Father Christmas will find us."_

"_How can you know for sure?" Issi piped up, still looking fearful._

"_I know for sure because Father Christmas has found us before, on many occasions," Peridan replied. "Before either of you were born, before King Peter was High King over Narnia, I lived in a faraway land known as the Seven Isles. I was Narnian by birth, but my grandfathers had had to leave Narnia because there was an evil there."_

"_The White Witch," Endric interrupted._

"_Aslan killed her," Issi added. "She's not evil anymore."_

"_Exactly," Peridan said, squeezing both of them a little closer. "Many of the people in the Seven Isles didn't believe in Christmas, but Father Christmas still came to the homes of those who did. Then, when the Witch was defeated and High King Peter and King Edmund and Queen Susan and Queen Lucy were crowned, our family came back to our old home in Narnia. We had moved very far away, and I was worried that Father Christmas wouldn't be able to find me."_

"_You were scared, too?" Issi asked, incredulous._

"_I was," Peridan answered, somewhat truthfully. He'd been a man grown by the time he had come to Narnia, but he had remembered the question crossing his mind when Yuletide arrived. "But he did. He found me with no trouble at all, just like he found your mother when we married, and just like he shall find us here in Tashbaan."_

_The children were silent again, but Issi's hiccups seemed to have stopped and Endric looked relieved. _

"_Queen Susan is beautiful, isn't she?" Issi said suddenly. "Tadeed said that her father said that the Prince wants to marry Queen Susan because she is the most beautiful woman in the world."_

"_Almost," Peridan said with a smile. "She's not quite as beautiful as your mother, but the Prince can't have her because she married me first."_

_Issi giggled and Endric grinned, and all three of them started in surprise at the soft voice that came from the doorway._

"_I would have married your father anyway. He's much more handsome than any Prince."_

_Peridan looked over Endric's head and his own shoulder to find his wife standing in the doorway. He wondered how long she'd been there, how much she had heard. Judging by the smile on her lovely face, she had heard quite a bit._

"_Mama!" Issi cried, leaping from her father's lap and around his large desk to hug her mother's legs. Endric followed at a slightly more dignified pace, but still grinned with his recently-acquired knowledge that Christmas wasn't entirely ruined. _

"_Mama! Endric was wrong! Father Christmas knows where we are after all!"_

"_How wonderful!" Dania replied, with a glowing smile just for her husband. _

"_How many sleeps until Christmas comes?" Issi continued. _

"_Two more nights, my love," Dania answered with a laugh. "Two more sleeps."_

"_I do wish that it was sooner," Issi pouted, and her parents laughed._

"_It will come soon enough," Dania told her, "And how much more wonderful will it be for having had to wait so long?"_

His reverie was interrupted by the soft sound of the heavy door of his study opening. It admitted Dania, who wordlessly approached his desk and gently laid a small, delicate hand over his own.

"I think, husband, that even the Four Monarchs have ceased working by this hour."

He looked up into her face, her eyes shining with the light and merriment only this time of year could bring. Sometimes he wondered how he had been so fortunate as to win her heart; she truly was much more beautiful and much more worthy a woman than he could have ever hoped for. She had supported him unfailingly during these six years of their marriage, and had not even shown the slightest hesitation when he told her that King Edmund had approached him about the Calormene ambassadorship.

"You are right as always," he admitted, drawing her hand up to his lips and kissing it before beginning to mark and close the countless books before him. "I lost track of the hour; it's hard when the whole country continues on as if tomorrow is just another day."

She nodded in understanding and waited patiently for him to tidy up.

"Where are the children?" he asked as he stopped the last inkwell and snuffed all but one of the strange Calormene candles. He picked up the last candlestick in one hand as he offered the other arm to Dania.

"Abed, though as far from sleep as ever I've seen them," she replied with a smile. "They're expecting Father Christmas to arrive at any moment."

"Then I shan't disturb them when I enter to kiss them goodnight."

"Far from it," she said, laughing lightly. "Though it might disappoint them that you aren't Father Christmas himself."

He laughed as they left the study behind in search of the nursery, but it was with some trepidation. He had felt terribly certain when he had reassured the children that Father Christmas would find them, but now that that moment was almost upon them, he found himself worried that he may have been wrong. It wasn't so much a lack of faith in Father Christmas as it was a knowledge that they were one of so very few Narnian families in Tashbaan, and he hadn't remembered to ask those who had been here longer how exactly Christmas worked in this new land. Peridan didn't think he could bear to see the crestfallen looks on his heartbroken children's faces if he had given them so much hope for naught.

The rooms of this house, provided for their use by the Narnian monarchs, all opened out into a square, central courtyard, with an arched walkway in between. The moonlight shone through the graceful arches and made their candle somewhat useless as it glinted off the polished and patterned marble floor. The courtyard, too, was illuminated, though the myriad colors of the gardens therein were muted by the night. Removed from the noise and bustle of the streets outside, the courtyard was an oasis, and the only sound to be heard apart from their own footfalls was the steady gurgle of the fountain in its center.

It was not far to the nursery, but Peridan relished the cool breeze the night had finally brought. It wasn't quite the pristine snowfall and bitter chill of a Narnian Christmas Eve, but it was certainly better than the sweltering heat of a Calormene midday. As much as he adored his wife, it was certainly easier to enjoy the touch of her hand through his arm now than in the hot daylight.

They soon reached the nursery, and Dania pushed open the door. Sure enough, both children were bright-eyed and sitting up in their beds despite the best efforts of the little Dwarf nurse to persuade them otherwise.

"Mama! Father!" Issi cried happily, clutching at the light blankets that adorned her bed. "Only one more sleep before Christmas!"

"Indeed, little one. But it doesn't appear that you're very close to that sleep," Peridan said with a grin. He turned to the tired-looking nurse. "That will be all, Whisner, thank you. Get some rest, and merry Christmas to you."

Muttering a "Merry Christmas" in reply, the Dwarfess seemed all too happy to retire, and closed the door softly behind her.

"If we don't sleep, does that mean that Christmas won't come?" Endric asked.

"Oh, Christmas will come, to be sure," Peridan answered. "It will just take all the longer getting here."

Endric frowned at this, but his eyes grew wide as there came a knock upon the nursery door. Peridan turned to Dania and found his own confusion mirrored in her face. Who would be entreating entry to the nursery at this time of night? Whisner would have entered quickly after an initial rap upon the door. He desperately hoped that nothing was amiss that would draw him back to his study, or worse, to the Tisroc's palace.

The knock sounded again, and Peridan moved to open the door. He cracked it open and peered out, and his jaw threatened to fall to the floor as his eyes widened in shock. He vaguely heard Endric chirp, "Who is it, Father?" and Dania shush him gently, but he could not find his voice. It was the visitor who found his first.

"Well! I've had many greetings in my time, but this may be one of the strangest!" the man burst out, following his exclamation with the jolliest laugh Peridan had ever heard.

Issi shrieked with glee behind him, and Endric cried out, "It's him! He's come! Father Christmas!"

For indeed it was; there was no mistaking it. His children's shouts and the sounds of their little feet pattering against the stone floor as they bolted from their beds were enough to snap Peridan to action, and he threw open the door in welcome.

"Father Christmas!" he repeated. His knees buckled slightly as two small forms crashed into his legs and held on tightly, two little fair heads peering around to get a look at the visitor.

He was big and grand, and had the kindest face that Peridan had ever seen. His eyes twinkled with mirth, and his nose and cheeks were almost as rosy as the bright red robes he wore. Peridan wondered how he wasn't sweltering in them, but the heat seemed to be the last thing on Father Christmas's mind. Peridan stepped back to allow Father Christmas to enter, which was no easy task considering the hold his children had on his legs. Dania had stepped closer and now stood at his elbow, smiling radiantly.

For all their chattering earlier, Issi and Endric were speechless now. They, Peridan reasoned, must be feeling the same air of importance and grandeur that this man had brought with him into the room. He did not stand still for long, but rather looked about, considering the entire nursery with a pursed lip and a contemplative twisting of his long, white beard through his fingers.

"Hmm…" he murmured, stepping in a slow circle so as to take in every corner of the room. "Aha!" he then exclaimed, and moved to unshoulder an enormous crimson sack. He bent down to rummage through it, and then, to the great amazement of the family before him, drew from its depths a large fir tree, trimmed in red and gold with a gleaming star on top that seemed to glow with a light all its own. He hefted the tree into one corner as if it weighed nothing at all, and to Peridan's amazement it was the perfect height for the room. The star shone only a handbreadth from the ceiling.

"Oh, Mama!" Issi breathed. "A real Christmas tree!"

"I heard that there was some concern about that, given the lack of suitable trees in the area," Father Christmas said merrily, and Issi blushed pink that he had actually heard her and responded.

"I suppose you'll be wanting your presents, then?" Father Christmas continued with a wink, and Peridan felt the grips on his legs loosen as the children stepped somewhat nervously forward.

"Oh, yes please, Sir!" Endric said.

"We were so worried that you wouldn't be able to find us!" Issi added. "But Father knew you would."

Peridan was surprised to find himself turning slightly pink as Father Christmas turned to him. "Your father is a very wise man," he said. "You'd do well to mind his words, and those of your mother, too." He didn't say it unkindly, but rather like a grandfather giving advice to a beloved grandchild. There was, however, something in the old man's eyes that made Peridan think that Father Christmas somehow knew of his secret doubts, though Peridan sensed that he wasn't being judged for it. Before he had time to dwell too much upon it, Father Christmas was reaching back into his sack.

"Now… Issi, daughter of Peridan."

The girl stepped forward, looking as solemn as Peridan had ever seen her. His mind was a blur as Father Christmas presented his children and wife with gifts. He somehow took in his daughter's tears of joy as a lovely, brand new doll that looked remarkably like Issi herself was pressed into her arms. Endric, his face equally solemn and then equally elated, received a wooden sword and shield, fine first arms for a five-year-old boy who might one day become a Knight of Narnia. He saw Dania accept a bundle of rich, colorful cloth into her arms, but didn't hear what it might contain or be. It wasn't until his own name fell from the old man's lips and he found himself stepping forward that he realized what was happening.

"For you, Peridan, son of Rondin, I have brought a fine new horse to hasten and facilitate your journeys to the Tisroc's palace."

"Ought not you say 'May he live forever'?" Issi interrupted, clearly emboldened by the kindness recently shown to her.

Father Christmas turned to the girl with a twinkle in his bright eye. "When one is bound to live forever such as I am, he rarely wishes such a fate upon any who is not fortunate enough to have such joyful lifeswork as I have. Christmas is eternal, but it is for the good of nations that their rulers come and go."

Both the children nodded gravely, and Peridan wondered that they truly seemed to understand the magnitude of the wise words. Father Christmas turned to him again, and Peridan found his voice to thank the old man.

"You'll find your gift has already been bedded down for the night in your stables, and there is a new saddle as well. I made sure to include a rather large bag of sugar in one of the saddlebags, as I've found the beast to be unusually fond of it." With that, Father Christmas gave a mighty laugh and made to shoulder his now-empty sack.

"You have many more places to go, haven't you, Father Christmas?" Endric piped up.

"I do, my son," Father Christmas replied. "And the nights do seem to get shorter as the years pass."

The children bade him a fond farewell, their eyes gleaming. Issi, still clutching her doll tightly to her chest, suddenly leapt forward and wrapped her arms in a fierce hug around one of Father Christmas's legs, and was rewarded with a little chuckle and a kiss on the top of her head.

As the strange but beloved visitor took his leave, Peridan found himself following him out into the night. He and Father Christmas walked in silence down the arched walkway for a moment before Peridan was able to speak.

"Thank you," he said finally, feeling all at once that it was not enough, but that there was no more that he could say. They had stopped at the juncture of one hall to another, and Father Christmas turned and smiled solemnly.

"Thank _you_, Peridan, son of Rondin," he replied softly, placing a heavy, paternal hand on the younger man's shoulder, "For ensuring that I am still welcome, even in Calormen."

Peridan was rendered speechless once again, and could only watch as Father Christmas disappeared into the night. He saw no sign of the famed reindeer or sleigh, and heard no tinkle of their bells, but he knew they were out there somewhere all the same. Above the courtyard, he could see the stars twinkling down as they had for centuries. They were different than the Narnian stars, as everything was different in this exotic land where he hoped he would someday feel at home, but they served the same purpose in delighting his peaceful heart. The air was warm, not cold; there was no snow to be seen and no carols carried to him on the wind. The heavy scent of incense and flowers was in the air rather than that of cinnamon and greens, and tomorrow life would go on in Tashbaan as it had the day before and would the day after. But he could still see the rapturous looks on his children's faces as they beheld Father Christmas, could still look forward to Dania's warm body next to his tonight, could still feel the swelling of his heart with such joy that threatened to bring a tear to his eye. They were as far from home as they could be, but Christmas had found them after all.

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**Author's Endnote: **Well, there you have it! I'd love to hear what you thought, the good AND the bad. Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone!


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